


Denial of Acceptance

by TheAngelofFate



Series: noticed there was a lack in Oscar & Ozpin stories so I decided to rectify that [19]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, Papa Ozpin, Pneumonia, Single Parent Ozpin (RWBY), Tears, loss of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelofFate/pseuds/TheAngelofFate
Summary: In many places, being a necromancer is outlawed. For some, you’ll be told not to commit necromancy and they’ll move on. For others you’ll be arrested and killed. Ozpin is on such Necromancer, but he has something he holds more dear to him then his magic.His son...
Relationships: Ozpin & Oscar Pine
Series: noticed there was a lack in Oscar & Ozpin stories so I decided to rectify that [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552897
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Denial of Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bowl_Of_Shortness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowl_Of_Shortness/gifts).



It started with a simple cough.

It began as a bring day outside, the clouds in the sky were slowly moving past them, while a gentle breeze blew through his hair and hair Oscar’s hair askew. His son, who had just turn ten years old was currently playing in the fields of the summer cottage a few feet from him, dressed in several pairs of warm clothing, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold.

He had chosen to come here after a rather hard week at Beacon, he needed a break from everything that was going on, the stress his job as a Necromancer and being around Ironwood was proving to take its toll on him mentally and physically. Plus, it was also taking time away from spending it with Oscar, who rarely saw him expect during lunch hours and bedtime when he would kiss him goodnight and read him a story.

So, Oz decided it was time to take a vacation. Just to take some time where he could be himself, and where Oscar could be a kid.

And for three days. That is what they did.

On the four day, it was as any normal Wednesday evening. Until Oscar, let out a loud cough. It was particularly loud or deep, just a simply cough. Oz thought that perhaps his son, had been outside too long in the cold air, as there was snow on the ground and Oz noticed the shivers traveling along Oscar’s shoulders and all the way down his spine. So, he smiled tenderly, walked over, and scooped his boy into his arms, earning a delightful squeal from the ten-year-old and declared it was time to head inside.

And the rest of the day was spent as they have been doing for the past couple days. They ate a nice hot bowl soup, nibbled on some crackers, listened to the radio all cuddled up and wrapped in a blanket, next to the fireplace as the cottage was vintage and was never built to have such fancy things like traditional house and homes did.

The next day was another beautiful day, birds chirped outside, a gentle snow fall peaked over the horizon, this time however Oz noticed that Oscar was coughing more than yesterday, every time he took a deep breathe it was always followed by a cough. Oz could only wince in sympathy, knowing that Oscar must have developed a cold from being outside so long, he poured medicine in a cup and brought it over to him.

He smoothed his baby’s hair back from his face, who pouted in his chair staring at the fire, “Aw, my poor little pinecone, not feeling good today?” Oscar nodded, his cheeks puffed out, obviously unhappy he had to take medicine since he utterly loathed the stuff. Ozpin ruffled his hair and gave him a reassuring smile, “I know, but once you take this, you’ll feel better in the morning”

“P-Promise?” Oscar asked, his throat hoarse and dry from coughing all day.

Oscar’s question made Ozpin’s heart melt and pang with a bit of worry, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the crown of Oscar’s head, “I promise.”

He was remained right then, of the day he first found Oscar.

> _That warm, summer day ten years ago, where he was walking down a country road looking to have a bit of a break from yet another stressful time being Headmaster and having to deal with James for extended periods of time, when he heard something that made him stop, the sound of wailing. But it didn’t sound quiet right, it sounded muffled and positively frightened. Never one to ignore the distress of children, he followed the voice to the deepest part of a corn field and realized with such a horror it left him breathless, that laying straight in the middle of this cornfield was a bag, with a baby inside of it. Oz dropped his cane to the ground and ran forward, taking his teeth he ripped the bag open and the first thing he saw was a mop of brown hair._
> 
> _The poor little boy was gasping for air, freighting, and fitting like it was still in the bag, like it didn’t know it was out. Gently, he held the little one in his arms and shushed it, swaying from side to side, running a finger along his cheek to calm him down. Then those eyes opened and stared at him, those deep hazel greenish eyes looked directly at him and still with tears falling down his face, smiled at him. That was all it took, that smile, and those eyes were enough for him to decide to care for the boy as his own. Vowing to always be there, to love Oscar with all his heart._

The next morning Oscar developed a fever, along with sweating and cold chills. Oz made sure he was bed ridden all the entire day. He ran his fingers through those sweaty curls, “Oh my baby boy, you are a right mess, what am I going to do with you?” Oscar smiled at his teasing, despite the chills his body was producing and leaned into the touch.

The next day was shortness of breath, following by shallow breathing. Oscar could barely get a deep breathe through neither his nose nor mouth without becoming exhausted. He debated with himself, knowing that Oscar needed to go to the doctor but knew that it was never ideal to move children when they were this sick. Ozpin pressed his forehead to Oscar’s and tried not to wince at how scalding the skin felt against his own. “Doctor will be here soon, baby, I promise…”

Oscar gazed up at him, a smile on his face, obviously relieved that someone was coming to help him feel better. “Okay…”

By Saturday, Oscar had completely lost his appetite and was having chest pains every time he coughed. He called the doctor who informed him that due to the weather, no one would be able to get there until Monday morning. 

On Sunday, he stepped outside to unfreeze the pipes so that they could have hot running water. And the moment he stepped on foot in the door, his heart skipped a beat, because something felt wrong, something felt very _very_ wrong! The air felt colder then it did outside, everything felt a lot darker and eerie then it did outside.

It…

It felt like the passing of an innocent soul….

His cane fell from his hands and clattered to the ground as he rushed towards Oscar’s, whom he had moved towards the couch to keep a better eye on, and saw that he was still lying there, asleep.

Except…

His heart raced, he felt like he was going to throw up as he practically threw himself the rest of the way to his boy. He smoothed Oscar’s hair away from his face and it struck him at how cold his son’s body was, his mind was connecting the dots, but his heart refused to believe it. Ozpin placed his hands-on Oscar’s shoulders, and shook him gently, “Oscar.”

When there was no response, no groan of protest or smile of love as those hazel eyes greeted him as they did every morning.

His hands began to shake, “ _Oscar_!”

It was then that he realized just how limp his son’s body was, how… how _lifeless_. He felt like his entire world shattered in that moment. Ozpin crashed to his knees in a heap of despair letting out a deep gut-wrenching wail as he pulled Oscar off the couch and into his arms, holding him exactly as he had when he was a baby.

He rocked back and forth, sobbing, and holding his baby so close to him. Oz pressed his tear-stained face into Oscar’s temple, “Please! Please… _no_!” He cried out brokenly. “Not him! Not my _baby_! I… I can’t live without him, _please_!”

Not really even knowing he was doing it. Ozpin used his Necromancy, it swirled around him in bursts and heavy green light along with an accompany bits of green dust. And sat there the rest of the day, holding his dead son in his arms, sobbing and pleading towards anyone who would listen to bring him back. But nothing, nothing at all happened, Oscar was still dead, dead at ten years old.

Ozpin spent the next couple of days in mourning, never straying to far from Oscar’s body, as it placed it on the couch gently there with his arms crossed over his small chest. He knew he should bury him, but he just… _couldn’t_. The thought of pouring dirt on top his child filled him with disgust. He did not eat, he couldn’t sleep, he broke down into sobs and fell to his knees on random occasions.

His body must have lost it’s battle for not sleeping because he was awoken by something kickstarting his mind. It was like a jolt to his system and it jerked him back to reality, eyes snapping open, mind still delirious from lack of sleep. He curled his legs tighter up against his chest and let out a long breathe, tears from reality, the one he did not wish to accept stabbed at his heart and made tears immediately swell in his eyes.

“Um…”

The sudden voice speaking out, after days of it being deafeningly silent in his cottage was so earth shattering that Oz nearly died from shock the moment, he heard it. He jerked his head towards the voice and let out a choked wail when he realized who spoke it.

There was Oscar, sitting up on the couch looking so very confused, with glowing a bright, vibrant orange in hue.

Ozpin was on his feet before his mind knew what was happening. “ _Oscar_!” He wailed brokenly, falling to his knees in front of his baby boy and yanked him into his arms, “Oscar! Baby!” He couldn’t believe it, his magic actually worked! Never has he ever tried to use it to this extent, but he didn’t care, how could he care when his son was here in front of him again, even if he was now glowing orange, he didn’t give a single damn.

He felt Oscar reach up and pat his arms, but the movements felt stiff and awkward. So much so that Oz pulled away and looked into his son’s eyes only realizing just now that they were completely white, and no longer their beautiful hazel green anymore, “Um, excuse me…. But who am I?”

Ozpin felt his breathe leave him with that one sentence. He felt like his world was shattering all over again when it was just beginning to heal. At first, for a split moment, Ozpin was horrified, angry and dumbfounded all at the exact same time, but then he remembered the very first rule about his type of Necromancy.

> **Assertive:** _Mildly painful for revived depends on the situation, user can choose to control the revived, revived looks semi normal._ _An occasional side effect of being revived with necromancer is that the revived suffer severe amnesia_

_Oh gods_

He did this, because of him, Oscar had no idea who he was and by extension, his very own son had no idea who he was. Oz had gotten his son back only to lose him all over again.

But Oscar was still here, he was still right here in Ozpin’s arms, safe and alive and that was what he needed to focus on, that what he would always focus on. Gently, though his tears, he smiled, “Why your name is Oscar Diggs.”

Oscar blinked at the name, still looking confused, “Then, who are you?”

He felt like his heart was crumbling to pieces, but he breathed passed it. Gently, and so very tenderly, Ozpin reached forward and cupped his son’s cheek, as he has done so many times before. “I’m your father”

Oscar’s white eyes widened at that, “Father? You? Really?” He seemed to really like that idea already.

Oz stoked Oscar’s face with his thumb. “Yes, I am. And no matter what it takes, I will help you regain your memories.”

Oscar looked unsure now scared even and he made the attempt to huddle close to Oz just the smallest bit, clearly already trusting him, “Promise?”

Oh

A choked noise escaped his throat, but he tried to make it sound more like a laugh but failed miserably, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to his baby boy’s forehead, “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS FOR YOUUUUU BOWL! Took me a bit longer then I wanted but I hope you and everyone get a chance to read it tomorrow. 
> 
> Anywoo, feedback is always welcomed and appreciated down in the comments down below and I will see you all later.


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